Little Things
by AlmostGolden
Summary: It's the little things that get him. PJO one shot Percabeth! Short but sweet? T for mentioned sex.  BTW: it's a little depressing that I have over 3x as many favorites as I have reviews. When you read, please take the time to give me your feedback. Thnx:


**Hi! This is my first PJO story, and it's just short little one-shot. I absolutely love the series and I can't wait for the next TLH to come out. If you haven't read that series yet, GO! Anyway, in case any of you are Gallagher Girls readers, I know, I should be updating some of my stories over there, but I just wanted to get this done.**

**So, yeah. Here it is. Pretty short, but hope you enjoy!**

It's the little things that get him.

The way she runs her hands through her long blonde curls in frustration when reading Daedalus' plans. How she would play with the delicate silver ring on her middle finger when she got nervous. The ring he gave her this year for her 18th birthday. When she peaked up at him, under those long lashes, when she knew she was about to tell him something that would get him upset. How she knew that look, and a kiss would make everything so much better. When they woke up together, she would absently run her fingers over the small of his back, his Achilles heel, worry touching her beautiful features.

He knows that he's the one for her.

He loves the way that, even when she dives into her work, because she takes her job of designing Olympus very seriously, he can pull her out of that architecture-induced stupor. A kiss on her temple, brushing the hair out of her eyes, and twirling a piece around his finger, causes her typing on Daedalus' laptop to happen more erratically. When she's feeling particularly nostalgic, in tears about who knows. Luke, Thalia, Silena, Beckendorf, and all the other people who lost their lives in that final stand, he's the one she can rely on to pull her back, to put a watery, but genuine smile on her gorgeous face. And he's never failed yet.

He loved all of her little quirks too.

How she wore socks to bed, but kicked them off after a few minutes. The only carbonated drink she could stand was orange soda. The way that, even though she was a horrible cook, she attempted every year to make him a homemade dinner. And every year, sort of like a tradition, they went out to eat. He loved that thing she had, that quest for dominance. It made everything with her better than it was with anyone else. Conversations, sparring, sex.

He knows that she loves him.

He can tell, the way that she looks at him when she thinks he doesn't notice. He recognizes the look in her eyes, when she sees him talking to another girl, even if it's to help her with her sword skills, or to ask her what Annabeth would want for their two year anniversary. When he just sits with her, out on the beach, and they're both lost in their own thoughts. It's silence. Comfortable, and comforting. Whatever has happened that day, the presence of the other wash the pain and wounds out and away, leaving only desire to be with each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her eyes following him when he's sparring with someone. Her eyes trail down his body, and her eyes darken. This usually leads to hot sex, but he knows that there's more there than lust.

They're still best friends.

Just because they became something more, doesn't mean that they aren't still best friends. Some days, all they do is talk, and trade playful insults, like before. It's good. Its keeps them grounded, let's them remember who they are with each other, and who they're not. They're not one of those little flings, where they stare lovingly into each other's eyes all the time, and then break up, moving on. No, they're real. He's still the one to hold her when she's upset, in the friendly way. And she's still the girl who can beat him easily in a battle of wits. She's still his Wise Girl, and he's always been her Seaweed Brain.

But he couldn't stand her insecurities.

He hated the way that, even though she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen, she felt the need to ask how she looked periodically. And how she'd look in the mirror ten times before deeming herself 'okay'. It killed him when she didn't believe him when he told her how beautiful she was. He could see the flaws, like the tiny white scar above her left eyebrow, and they only added to her perfection. If only she could see that.

He puts up with it though. For her sake. But every minute, of every hour, of every day, he tells her how madly in love with her she is. And how perfect she is. Maybe not perfect like Miss America, but definitely perfect for him.

**So, short but sweet? Please review to let me know what you think! Thanks!**

**XOXO**

**Kacee**


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